Girl's Not Grey
by Lost-Blue-Phantom
Summary: Santana had a little breakdown in the bathroom. Just a tiny one.


**A/N: I'm venturing out of my comfort zone when it comes to Glee. Instead of writing about Quinn (although I am working on a Jesse/Quinn friendship oneshot), I decided to write about Santana instead. Why? I'm not really sure. The idea just kinda hit me as I was doing crossword puzzles earlier today. Yeah, I know. I'm weird. I don't know if I'm good at writing Santana just yet, although I really enjoyed sitting in her mindset and getting her thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. The title "Girl's Not Grey" makes reference to an AFI Song. I listened to "Prelude 12/21" while writing this. :D**

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She must've looked like Rachel, storming away from the chorus room after Mr. Schue broke up her fight with Mercedes. But she couldn't let them see her cry. There was no way in hell that any of them, except _maybe_ Brittany, were going to see Santana Lopez cry. A swirl of emotions coursed through her, and she broke out into a run, sprinting to the bathroom, where she could have a miniature breakdown and recollect herself.

Santana was furious. She was hurt, and felt extremely betrayed. But it wasn't at Mercedes. No, she wasn't mad at Mercedes at all. In fact, she almost felt sorry for the girl. Mercedes didn't know Puck for as long as she did. She wouldn't have known that Puck was only trying to use her from the start. She was completely fooled by Puck's faux charm, and most girls were the first time around.

No, it was _Puck_. She was furious at his inability to see how badly she wanted to be more than his 'hook up buddy'. More importantly, it was knowing that he didn't give a damn about how she felt when he walked around, flirting with nearly every thing that had a pair of boobs.

She had watched through Quinn, through Rachel, and now Mercedes, the entire time yearning she could take their place by his side. To see that smirk of his flashed in her direction. To have the knowledge that he was looking out for her. Santana clutched the sink for support as the tears silently slid down her face. Nobody wanted her. She was just the girl that everyone wanted to say they had, but never actually wanted to hold on to. It made her feel worthless, alone and distinctly unloved.

It was so hard to be good enough for every one. Good enough for her parents, good enough for Sue, good enough for the Glee club, good enough for _him_. Santana felt as if she had failed in all of those regards. She wasn't good enough for anyone, and she never would be good enough for anyone. She coughed as more tears poured down her face.

Puck's hair was growing back, and he would be back to his old self in no time. That's what she had practically growled at Mercedes. She was amazed at how easily they had believed her. Or perhaps she hadn't stuck around long enough to truly see their reactions, although she caught the look of apprehension on Mr. Shue's face. She hadn't said it to scare Mercedes. She had said it because she hoped with her whole heart that would soon be the case. If he were back to his old self, then maybe she would have her chance with him. She sniffled, in a vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

_Santana! _her inner Sue Sylvester snapped. _Get a grip on yourself and stop these ridiculous waterworks. _Santana shook her head quickly to rid herself of her self-deprecating thoughts. _You are Santana. You don't take shit from anyone. Now go back out there and show them that you are not some pansy who locks herself up in the bathroom and cries whenever something doesn't go her way. Got that?_

She nodded furiously at her reflection, only let out a harsh laugh at her appearance. Her mascara was running, her face was puffy and swollen…certainly not the look of a distinguished Cheerio. She splashed cold water on her face, and patted her face dry. Looking at her face in the mirror again, she let out a groan, realizing that she would have to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom to retrieve her bag from her locker. Where people could actually see her. She curled her lip in distaste. No one was going to get the satisfaction of seeing her at her weakest.

Which is why her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she heard the bathroom door open. "It's you," she said, her voice as hostile as she could possibly get it. "What are you doing here, Fabray?" Her voice hitched slightly, and mentally rebuked herself. She had not been crying. She _hadn't_. She glared at Quinn, trying to restrain a new round of tears that was already springing up.

"I have a baby pressed up against my bladder," Quinn said dryly. "You'll have to forgive me if I need to pee once in awhile." Then the blonde took one look at Santana's appearance, and Santana would've given anything in that moment for Quinn to go away. The look of pity, and mutual understanding shook Santana. An awkward silence passed between them. "You have some dried mascara on your cheek," Quinn murmured gently, her fingers dancing over the cracked black lines.

"Oh." That was all Santana could think of to say. Turning away from Quinn, Santana scratched at the dried mascara on her cheek. She turned around to face Quinn, who was giving her that damnable look of pity again. "Is it gone?" she asked. Quinn nodded. Another moment of awkward silence passed between them. "I thought you needed to pee," Santana said derisively.

"Here," Quinn said softly, producing a tube of mascara from her bag. She handed it to Santana, who was confused. "You need it." Santana glare angrily, and opened her mouth to interrupt, but Quinn held up her hand in silence. Santana was so shocked that she couldn't help but close her mouth. "It's Puck, isn't it?"

"Just go to the bathroom already," Santana snapped, snatching the tube of mascara from Quinn's outstretched hand. Okay, so she could be a bit more gratuitous toward Quinn, but the girl was the last person on her list that she wanted to walk in the bathroom at the moment. Quinn smiled a little bit and went into the stall as Santana began applying the mascara, to seal the crack in her mask.

Quinn came out of the bathroom after a few moments and began to wash her hands. Tension hung in the air and Santana longed to say something, just to break the silence between them. She extended her hand toward Quinn, holding the tube of mascara. Quinn shook her head. "You need it more than I do," Quinn said with a shrug, before heading out the door.

"Wait!" Santana called. Quinn stopped, and the look on her face echoed the confusion that was dancing inside Santana. There was so much she wanted to say to Quinn, but couldn't quite articulate it. "Thanks…for the mascara." _She knows what it's like to be me. As much as I hate to admit it…I owe her. _

"Oh," Quinn said, a mysterious smile on her lips, almost if she knew exactly what Santana was thinking. "Any time. You know how Puck is." With that, Quinn left the bathroom, humming contentedly to herself.

_Yeah, I do. _Santana thought, stepping outside of the bathroom as if nothing had happened. She glared down a freshman that had the misfortune of making eye contact with her, pretending that the small freshman was Puck. She smirked.

_Screw you, Puck. The bitch is back. _

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**Anybody here get the Veronica Mars/Heroes reference? In my mind, Santana is a lot like Elle. Without the sparky palms. And the sadism. And being played by Kristen Bell. Kristen Bell should be on Glee. That way I can see her instead of hearing her voice at the opening of Gossip Girl.**


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